


Closer than a Brother

by shanghai_tan



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bamfness everywhere, Bromance, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Prejudice, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanghai_tan/pseuds/shanghai_tan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friend that sticks closer than a brother...something, something, something. He can't remember the rest, or where it's from, but he thinks that their friendship is something like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer than a Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Guhhh, just broke the 10,000 milestone. *flails incoherently*  
> Much thanks to my sister/beta and also Wikipedia for helping me along. :)

They're laughing and joking about one thing or another when the smell of freshly baked lemon squares hits them smack in the face.

Wally expects the look of uber glee on his face to be mirrored by his best bud, and is surprised to find a look of abject loathing instead.

"What? Don't like lemon squares?" Wally asks as they scruff off their shoes on a floor mat that probably cost more than Wally's entire wardrobe, and then some.

"Not when Alfred makes it." Dick replies sourly.

Wally sniffs the air again to try to see what had got his friend in such a black mood. This only serves to make his mouth water even more. Alfred is the best cook he knows. Better than even Uncle Barry even. Wally practically lives for the days when Dick brings over some of Alfred's homemade goodies because the old butler wanted to try out a recipe.

Wally's been looking forward to the week ever since his parents had announced that they were going on a second honeymoon and entrusted him with his Uncle Barry. A conflict somewhere in the left corner of the galaxy had needed the expertise of The Flash and so Dick had offered his humble (yeah, right) abode as an alternative, citing that Bruce would say it was okay seeing that Wally was practically a fixture in the manor.

Dick's mood gets visibly darker once they neared the source of the heavenly smell.

"Master Dick, master Walla- Wally was it?" Alfred greets them as he extracts a tray of lemon squares from the steel lined oven, still managing to look his usual immaculately English self even in the pink frilly apron Dick had got him as a gag gift years ago.

"Hey Alfred." They chime together. Dick makes a beeline for the fridge with the air of one going to drown their sorrows while Wally eyes the pastries and wonders if Alfred will miss one. Or two. Or fifty.

"Coke or root beer?" Dick calls, tearing Wally's attention away from the yellow goodness.

"Beer." Wally says and catches the can easily a moment later. It makes him feel a little grown up drinking it. Even if it is a carbonated parody of the real thing.

Dick catches sight of the squares again and pulls a face at the reminder, "Please tell me you're not making these for occasion." Dick pleads.

Alfred replies with a pursed lip and an expression that conveys both pity and guilt at the same time, "I'm sorry master Dick, but we received word earlier this morning of one of his 'surprise visits'."

Wally's expression is the very picture of confusion. Alfred had sounded like he was addressing a bereaved at a funeral. And a glance at Dick's face showed the same thing.

"Um, who is this 'he' fellow? And why do I get a feeling you don't like him?" Wally asks after Alfred has shooed them out of the kitchen. They're heading to the entertainment lounge which has already been set up for them and Wally is itching to take off his shoes and slide around on his socks on the gleaming waxed marble.

"Ever heard of Edwin J. Wayne III?" Dick says, sourness seeping into his tone. Wally shrugs.

"Maybe." Wally replies. He doesn't really make habit of checking up on the life and times of obscenely rich people unless they're on television or something. Except Dick of course, who is his best friend, and even then he's part it so he can't really help it.

"He's a relative of Bruce's. His father's older brother to be exact. He's a major shareholder in the tech side of the Wayne industries, and sees it as his right to stop by every once in a while to make sure Bruce hasn't squandered away the family fortune." Dick explains, "He disapproves of everything."

"Including you." Wally asks like a statement, but Dick nods anyway.

"He gets even more gusted. Heavy on the dis. Whenever I'm around." Dick says, falling backwards onto the couch in front of the ginormous plasma screen television with a dramatic groan, "Apparently I am nothing but a freeloading Roma gypsy who does nothing but take advantage of Bruce's generosity. I have also been told, frequently, that I am nothing but a publicity stunt and also that I smell."

Wally tries to take this all in and fails, "You don't smell." He tries at last.

"Thanks." Dick says dryly with a grin. But his normally bright blue eyes are dulled with something like doubt and Wally suddenly feels like superspeeding this Edwin fellow to the north pole where he could freeze his balls off for all Wally cares.

"Okay, enough of this gloom and doom." Wally says decisively, feeling the need to wipe that weird look off Dick's face, "I promised to beat you in Super Mario Cart 4 remember?"

Wally is rewarded with a snort and a pillow to the head for his efforts, "Yeah right." Dick grins, his eyes clearing a little, "Prepare to be whelmed, as in the over kind of whelmed." He boasts until the pillow is chucked back at him. Dick's reflexes save a whump to the face but he doesn't duck the second cushion in time. It skims off the top of his head and musses up his perfectly gelled back hair.

Blue eyes glint at the challenge, "You do realize young padawan," Dick says ominously, "That this means war."

"Young? I've got, like, two years over you dude!" Wally laughs and dives to avoid the soft projectile aimed at his face.

Many cushions later and maybe some superspeed injected every once in a while (it's not cheating if your enemy has super freaky reflexes and mad acrobatic bat-skills.) they finally decide to end it in Dick's favor seeing that the smaller boy has Wally in a merciless headlock and Wally doesn't much fancy getting blood on the carpet. Alfred would kill him and then some.

"So what does this have to do with lemon squares?" Wally can't help but ask as they flop down shoulder to shoulder into the mess of pillows. They'll clean up in five minutes. Okay, maybe ten. Well...eventually.

"Edwin likes them frozen solid to the point of almost inedibility." Dick explains from his spot on the floor, half hanging off the upturned couch he had toppled over for an impromptu fort earlier, "So Alfred's gonna put them in the ice-box so they're ready for his visit."

Wally thinks it's not really healthy to mourn over a tray of pastry, but all those squares going to waste is tragic.

"Am I interrupting something?" A voice comes from the doorway. Wally scrambles up and almost trips over the cushions although Dick barely lifts his head, and then only to mouth a sarcastic 'smooth' at Wally.

It's the Batman, only it's not. It's just Bruce Wayne, in work clothes and gelled hair and carefree blue eyes which sweep over the warzone with something akin to amusement. It might have actually, y'know, been amusement. But Wally still had trouble sometimes disconnecting the Batman with Bruce -not that Dick has any such problems- and therefore it took some getting used to; to see real and human emotions on the man's face.

"Um, hi sir." Wally says, proud of the fact that his voice doesn't squeak. All that much.

"You just missed the fun." Dick says brightly. Wally is hard-pressed in imagining either Bruce, let alone Batman, take part in such trivialities, but keeps his peace.

"I see that." Bruce says lightly, kicking a stray cushion which hits Dick lightly in the abdomen. Dick wheezes exaggeratedly like an old man while Wally just feels awkward in general.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Bruce asks. Dick sighs and stops his dramatics, gracefully rolling to his feet in a flash of, what Wally feels like, unnecessarily impressive acrobatic-ness. Bruce just raises an eyebrow while Dick turns back to Wally with an expression like 'ta-da'.

Left alone in the lounge with nothing to do, Wally figures that since it was mostly his superspeed that made the mess, the least his superspeed could do was to help him clean it, and the lounge is rid of the strewn cushion in seconds. Wally plops down on the couch milliseconds before the last cushion bounces into place and awards himself extra points for that.

Wally glances at the time and his stomach chooses that moment to declare itself.

He rubs his stomach affectionately and gets up, following the siren call of the bag of chips he knows Dick has stashed in the snack pantry behind the organic cookies and the wholemeal bread.

-

"No. No. And did I mention no? Because no." Dick says flatly. Bruce looks apologetic which somehow makes things worse.

"Sorry Dick." Bruce says genuinely sorry, and he is. Really. He can't help it if Wayne's steel corporation's AGM is all the way in Germany, smack dab in the middle of an Uncle Edwin visit, "I'll try to be home by Thursday. Friday latest. It's just for a day or two after all. And anyway, I'll still be home on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. He's always the worse in the first few days after all."

"But a day is twenty four hours Bruce. All the more when you're not there." Dick says as reasonably as he can, "He'll tear me to pieces. I thought you loved me." Dick ends plaintively.

This time Bruce looks really guilty, and Dick almost feels bad. But then he remembers Edwin's condescending looks and badly concealed dislike and hardens his heart.

"I could ship you off to China or something," Bruce suggests, "To work on your Cantonese."

"Can't," Dick replies sadly, even though it's the best idea he's heard all day, "Wally's staying over."

"So ask Wally if he can go with you." Bruce says. Dick brightens and sticks his head out of the private study tucked quietly in the large hall, "Hey Wally!" Dick calls. There is an 'eep' and the sound of a crash.

"Yes oh disembodied voice that sounds like Dick?" Wally calls back sarcastically from wherever he is in the hall. Dick remembers, rather belatedly, that the study they're in is one of the secret hidden-passage ones and Wally probably couldn't see it. Secret passages were awesome for disappearing into thin air in. Now Dick steps seemingly out of nowhere from behind a pillar and taps Wally on the shoulder.

"Well, Alfred's not going to like that." Dick comments while Wally looks at him sourly. Chips are scattered on the floor and Dick plucks a stray from Wally's shoulder and pops it into his mouth with a grin.

A flurry of air and the floor is back to its sparkling glory. Superspeed was really useful at times Dick thought as he swallowed, licking salt off his fingers in the time it took for Wally to clean up.

"Oh? Nah, sorry. I can't." Wally replies to Dick's hopeful offer, his red hair wind blown, "I've got school and stuff. Sorry." He says again at Dick's crestfallen expression. Bruce lays a warm hand on Dick's shoulder in something like consolation while Wally struggles with the conception that the Batman is able to feel things like empathy.

Or even, y'know, feel.

-

"Is it really that bad?" Wally whispers in the dark, Dick's silhouette a black shrouded lump. Dick turns to face him and his eyes are so blue they seem to glow in the dark, and Wally kinda sees why Dick wears those domino masks of his all the time because there are too many emotions in those blue, blue eyes.

Wally sort of hopes Dick'll never grow out of those too-expressive eyes.

Dick sighs and his eyes shut for a moment. It's a silence later before Dick replies. But Wally is good at waiting when he has to, despite everything ever said about him, and he wonders if his green eyes pierce as sharp as blue when Dick opens his eyes again and stares straight at him. Bright and beautiful and tired at the same time.

"Mmhmm." Dick hums noncommittally at last, and it doesn't break the silence, rather, it seeps into it. Curling in silence's corners and settling comfortably like only sound can, "You'll see tomorrow I suppose," he murmurs, then seems to remember something, the glint of white teeth is rather unnerving but the mischievousness in Dick's eyes is better than the doubt, "This means you'll have to be calling me 'Richard' throughout his stay. Which is about a week I'd guess."

"That'll be weird." Wally comments and waits for the other shoe to drop when Dic- Richard. Richard's grin doesn't falter.

Wally gets it a second later, "No."

"Edwin despises nicknames." Richard says, and his voice is a mocking melody punctuated by soft manic laughter. And if Bats has his very own glare stamped and patented; Robin has his giggle, chilling and delighted with child-like glee.

"No way. No how." Wally denies as Richard grins, "I'll hide. Run away whenever I think he's near. All he'll know of me this trip is a minor draft."

"What's wrong _Wallace_?" Richard asks, grin turning dark, "Chicken?"

"Dude!" Wally complains because. Unfair. He'll totally have to suffer it out now or face the title forever. Bro code man.

They lapse back into silence after that. Wally is drifting between the realms of awake and unconsciousness when Richard speaks so soft that Wally almost doesn't catch the words.

"You don't have to stay." Richard breathes. And in that moment Wally thinks: Yes. Yes I do.

"Nowhere else to go man." Wally replies easily, although at least three other options pop into his head the moment he says it. Richard is the freaking Batman's ward and probably knows he's lying, but Richard doesn't push it. Just sinks back into his mattress with a small smile.

Wally has to strain to hear the 'thank-you', but it's enough.

-

Richard John Wayne Grayson is an evil, evil child. Wally thinks as he stumbles out of the bedroom's adjoining bathroom that is twice the size of his room back at home. At least there's hot water in abundance and Wally's favorite shampoo, or else the speedster would really have to think about revenge. And maybe Wally's slightly grateful too, seeing how he's going to be on time for school; the beautiful smell of Alfred's pancakes wafting up from downstairs.

Dick has rolled over and pulled the covers over his head by the time Wally's ready. Wally's going to zip out of Gotham and to his school, having declined the awesome -though admittedly unnecessary- offer of a chauffeur driven Jaguar because, well, he's faster on foot. It's going to take maybe ten minutes or so depending on the traffic and if it'd rained the night before. Slipping on the sidewalk while in superspeeding mode was not fun. At all.

Dick comes home from his fancy private school before Wally's done with his mediocre (aka more normal) public one. Wally's got detention for being late to class three times in a row the week before. It isn't really his fault, since he'd had to save the world (or part of it anyway) which made him late said three days. But Wally doesn't have a multi-billionaire for a guardian (who also happened to be the school's major patron) and therefore had to suffer.

Well, at least it was the start of summer break the next day. Still sucked though, having detention on the last day to freedom.

Dick's got his tie half off the moment he steps into the manor and climbs up the staircase two at a time after a quick hello to Alfred. He's got a couple hours or so to make himself presentable enough for Edwin's arrival (ha!) and he puts his book bag neatly away before locking himself in his bathroom.

He stays under the shower for as long as he can until common sense drags him out of the safety of hot water and familiar tiles, and pokes a face in the mirror's condensation just because he can while he dries himself with a big fluffy towel. He checks himself over twice -each time just as anal-retentively- before he opens his bedroom door to face the world.

Dick stops by his guardian's room on his way to the stairwell. Bruce is probably still sleeping since the door is closed and light doesn't seep out of it. Moreover, the door is also locked. This doesn't deter Dick since he's been picking harder locks than these even before he'd left the circus.

Bruce's Bat-skills probably alerts him the moment Dick even touches the doorknob, but Bruce pretends to sleep on anyway. Dick narrows his eyes and creeps to the bed, pretending for a moment to be a lion ready to pounce on his prey.

"I know you're awake." Dick sings as he takes an enthusiastic seat on the bed, bouncing meaningfully a few times. Bruce just rolls over and pulls a pillow over his head.

"Go away." Bruce says darkly, in a tone that had mob bosses begging for mercy and lesser men losing control of their bowels. But years of the Batman's company has immunized Dick to Bruce's worse and Dick just bounces again in retaliation.

"It's your own fault." Dick says mercilessly, "I know for a fact you were at one of your socialite parties instead of patrolling last night."

"It's important to keep up appearances." Bruce replies in his lecture-voice. Dick rolls his eyes and prods his guardian's back with the ball of his foot.

"Yeah, yeah." Dick says, "Now get up and get dressed. I won't suffer my dear uncle Ed’s dressing down without reinforcements." He tries to say it lightly but Bruce must have heard some of the hurt seep through because he rolls over to face Dick and props himself up with an elbow.

"Hey," Bruce says quietly and Dick can't quite meet his eye, "Look at me."

Dick does, forcing a grin onto his face, "It's okay. I mean; sticks and stones and all that right? It's like. Training."

"That doesn't make it right." Bruce says firmly, "You're not a charity case Richard. You're my kid, my...son. He's just a bitter old man who didn't like it that my father passed the company on to me instead of giving the whole thing over to him. So he takes it out of me, and now you because he sees I care about you."

Dick nods wordlessly, one hand fisting the bedclothes, not quite convinced. Bruce sighs and gives Dick a resigned smile, ruffling Dick's dark hair which earns him a noise of protest. Bruce wants to say more, but Wally's call of greeting distracts them.

Dick hops off the bed and there's an odd smile on his face. Like he's summoning up courage to do something terrible or something.

"Hey Bruce?" Dick says quietly before he leaves, "Thanks." And then he is out the door, light footsteps hurrying down the corridor.

-

"Now that's just showing off." Wally complains as Di- Richard. Richard slides down the banister with his sock-clad feet with the ease of the acrobat he once was. Richard somersaults near the end, landing perfectly balanced on the marble floor without so much as a stumble. Wally rolls his eyes and claps sarcastically as Richard bows to an imaginary -and evidently wildly cheering- audience.

"Don't be jealous Wallace." Richard grins, dodging the kick with a laugh, "How was detention?"

Wally scowls, "Yeah, just rub it in will'ya?" He says, mock offended but he's grinning anyway. He's mind-blowingly crazy-happy that he's finally free from the mundane routine of school; a whole three months seem to stretch out before him; full of endless, glorious possibilities.

Richard laughs at the look on his face and they whoop all the way to the kitchen. Wally could use a shower, like, really badly. But food beat out hygiene any day, and boy did Wally need some after all the running he's had to do.

Alfred raises an eyebrow at the cloud of enthusiasm that they carry into the kitchen, but spares them a small amused smile. Boys will be boys, he thinks to himself as they chatter excitedly about all the things they're going to do _because they can_.

"So I guess you need to know the rules." Richard says once they've got their snacks, and settled down in the entertainment lounge. Wally sits a little straighter, some of the humor fading from his eyes as Richard lists them out:  
"No running in the manor. No pillow fights. No unnecessary sounds. No acrobatics. No screaming. No interrupting the adults. No opinions. Children are to be seen, not heard. No powers, obviously."

"So no fun." Wally interrupts, liking the man less already. Richard laughs and agrees.

"Yeah, pretty much." Richard nods, "Also, like I said, refer to me as 'Richard' and Bruce as 'sir'. Sometimes I call him 'dad' just to see Edwin twitch." Richard smiles, a touch of hollowness in his voice which is gone so quickly Wally almost thinks he imagined it.

"So do you call him uncle then?" Wally asks.

"No." Richard says with a mostly exaggerated shudder, "I think he'd have an aneurysm, being associated with the likes of me. Which would be fun and all, but not much good for Bruce's well-being."

"There's nothing wrong-" Wally begins and is cut off by a rough nudge to the shoulder.

"I know." Richard says, almost too sharply, "Bruce gave me the pep talk already. Sheesh."

"Okay, okay." Wally says, lifting his hands up in a peace-making gesture, "Just saying."

"Yeah I know." Richard replies, almost apologetically, "I just want this visit to be over and done with." Then his expression turns really apologetic, "Look, I'm sorry, I should have known earlier that he was making one of his rounds. I was planning awesome things for this week and...well, it's not going to be much of a visit this round huh?"

"It's nothing." Wally says quickly, "We can always do those things next time. And you're my best bud y'know. I'm here for you." Wally says with a smile.

Richard smiles back; which morphs into utter disgust a moment later, "Ew. I think we just had a moment."

Wally blinks and makes a face, "Oh. Gross. Hey, wanna do something manly now and forget it ever happened?"

"Lets." Richard agrees fervently and reaches for a game console.

-

Bruce shows up half an hour later, decked in Armani without a stitch out of place. He's amused to see the two children engrossed in a game of Tekken, and is inwardly pleased to see Richard soundly trashing Wally even if Wally had the advantage of speed, fingers a blur as the redhead wildly pressed combinations in the face of Richard's superior tactical (and technological) genius.

"Hey Bruce, wanna join?" Richard calls out, his eyes never straying from the game. Wally jumps about a foot in the air, his head whipping around towards the entrance. He hadn't even heard the man come in. Richard uses the distraction to pound Wally's character into the ground, causing it to K.O. for good.

"Dude!" Wally whines when the game announces that Richard is the winner as Richard whoops something about feeling the 'aster. Whatever that meant. Kids.

"I've taken the liberty of ordering a set of clothes for your friend." Bruce says in his no-nonsense voice, a touch reminiscence of his alter ego's, "Edwin will be arriving soon. I advise you to be ready by then."

"Uh...thanks?" Wally says awkwardly, but Bruce has already strode out of the room. Richard sighs and disconnects the game, standing up and stretching.

"C'mon." Richard says, already heading out, Wally sighs and follows.

"Oh man. You stink." Richard declares as they enter the room.

"And you only notice it now, boy wonder?" Wally snarks back. Richard rolls his eyes.

"I'd realized it before dumbass." He says without any heat, "I just didn't call you out on it. Go take a shower before I pass out from the smell."

"I can't help it if you're jealous of the smell of a testosterone filled manly man." Wally grins as he makes to do so.

"And where can I find this man?" Dick shoots back. Wally doesn't dignify the sentence with an answer, disappearing into the bathroom with a one finger salute.

A quick shower and an even quicker drying off (Wally's not needed a towel for ages) and Wally comes out of the bathroom feeling much cleaner. Richard is sorting through clothes that Wally is very sure will fit him perfectly, and ties that he also knows will choke him until he takes it off. He seriously doesn't know how Richard does it every day when ties are mandatory in his school.

"So, like, what are you going to do with these after I'm done using them?" Wally asks as he runs a hand through luxuriously smooth fabric, "I guess you'll have to grow into them or something."

"Nah, you can keep them." Richard says flippantly, "I have my own personal tailor so growing's not a problem."

Wally gapes, "Dude. You did not just say personal tailor okay."

Richard has the decency to look sheepish, "I know, I know. I sound horrible. But seriously. It's yours to do whatever."

"Sure, I'll just sell them and pay for college. No biggie." Wally says with a strained smile. Richard shrugs a little helplessly and Wally just sighs and nudges him with a shoulder.

"It's fine. I'll thank...um...Mr. Wayne later." Wally says with a grin, "So. Anything else I should know?"

"Well to start with, you do know how to use cutlery right?" Richard asks hopefully.

Wally nods slowly, "Spoon in the right hand. Fork on the left. How hard can that be? Unless we're using chopsticks, 'cause I can totally rock chopsticks if I have to."

"No." Richard says, "Like. Which spoon for what dish kind of cutlery."

Wally's expression stiffens, "No. I take it back. You're on your own buddy. Just call me your personal minor draft for the rest of the week."

"Sissy." Richard rolls his eyes and proceeds to tell him everything Alfred's ever taught him about table manners.

-

Wally's still reeling from the onslaught of information when Edwin arrives.

Edwin should have arrived in the middle of a storm. Black clouds covering the sky as rain played percussion on the roof. The ominous sounds of rolling thunder before a strike of lightning filled the sky.

But then again, Wally's probably been watching too many horror movies lately.

Edwin arrives late in the afternoon. The weather is uneventful; with a slight chance of a drizzle later the only thing akin to any sort of storm.

As Edwin steps out of his long limo, Wally can sort of see the resemblance between Edwin and Bruce as Bruce walks forward to greet the other man. They both have matching dark blue eyes, broad frames, shocks of black hair and the chiseled features of men who are used to getting their way.

If Wally hadn't known any better, he'd have said Richard was a natural born Wayne as well. But a closer look shows Richard's eyes to be a brighter shade of blue than the Waynes' and features better built for agility than intimidation.

"Hello uncle." Bruce greets as Edwin fixes a cool look at Richard, then at Wally.

"Bruce." Edwin says, "And the little gypsy. I see you've grown since I saw you last." Wally wonders how Edwin can pack so much contempt in the sentence and really wants to punch him already even though he's only met him for less than five minutes.

Richard nods stiffly, seeming to read Wally's mind and surreptitiously steps on his foot in warning as he says, "Sir."

"And who is this?" Edwin says with a touch of cold amusement, turning his gaze to Wally, "Another one of your strays Bruce? I didn't think you'd get tired of young Grayson so quickly. I do hope this won't become a habit." Wally twitches.

"Actually this is Wallace West. A friend of Richard's." Bruce introduces quickly, his face a perfect mask of civility. Wally kind of wants to punch Bruce in the face too but he isn't suicidal because. Duh. Batman.

"Hey." Wally says meekly, and wishes he is anywhere but there at the moment.

"Hmmph, I trust Mr. West will be leaving soon?" It isn't a question.

"Actually Mr. West will be staying over in the manor for the week." Bruce says smoothly, "I'm sure he'll be on his best behavior throughout your stay, uncle Edwin."

It gives Wally a rush of vicious satisfaction when it is Edwin's turn to twitch, "Very well. You, show me to my room at once. I am fatigued from my flight."

Alfred doesn't even blink at the lack of respect, just steps out quietly from the shadows and eyes Edwin's considerable luggage with a slightly cocked eyebrow.

"Here, we'll help." Richard says quickly. He and Wally grab the bags, and Wally really wishes he could use his speed as they step into the cool air-conditioned house and start for the stairs.

Edwin must have packed nothing but bricks in his suitcases for all he knew. But it's also mostly because Wally's taken the heavier ones, leaving Richard with the light stuff, since Wally is older and taller and seriously. Who lets a thirteen year old with the built of a ten year old carry your stuff up anyway? Let alone an old man like Alfred.

Bruce chats lightly with Edwin as they trail after them, and Wally twitches a little. Couldn't the great and mighty Batman help a little? All that bat training gone to waste if Bruce hadn't even bothered to carry a single case.

"Edwin thinks Waynes're above menial labor." Richards says quietly, doing that freaky mind-reading thing again. "It wouldn't do for Bruce to help. He's doing us a favor actually and distracting the old coot, or else he'd find something to criticize again."

"Huh." Wally replies and they trudge up to the rooms in silence.

-

Dinner is an affair wherein Dick tries to become the chair he's sitting on and Wally alternates from wanting to punch the guy in the face and falling asleep in the pea soup. Edwin is just so boring.

It's a mental strain to keep referring to Dick as 'Richard'. Although Wally is proud that he's lasted longer than he'd thought he would. All he has to do now is not to address Dick by name for the rest of the week and he's golden.

Bruce somehow manages to maintain a mildly interested expression throughout Edwin's monologues and pretends to be taking into serious consideration Edwin's many advises and propositions for the Wayne industries. Most of it goes into one ear and out the other. Edwin doesn't seem to notice, too preoccupied with the sound of his own voice.

At least Dick looks like he's reached his happy place, Bruce thinks wryly as he pretends he doesn't know that Dick and Wally are kicking a ball of napkin under the table. He _does_ shoot them a level look when one of them accidentally kicks a table leg, causing a minor earthquake, but thankfully Edwin doesn't seem to notice.

"Master Bruce. There's a call waiting for you." Alfred injects quietly during one of Edwin's rare pauses.

"I have guests Alfred, surely-" Bruce says and cuts himself off at Alfred's almost imperceptible shake of the head.

"It's from Metropolis." Alfred states, "It seems that a Mr. Kent had an appointment with you...?"

"Ah yes." Bruce says, wiping his mouth almost primly, "News of my transaction with Luthor has spread fast."

"Alexander?" Edwin asks interestedly, "Ah yes. A fine fellow that man, I've never met a shrewder business man in my life."

Wally doesn't know whether to be shocked that Bruce (Batman! The freaking Batman!) is trading openly with Luthor, Superman's archenemy. Or that Edwin just addressed the Metropolis tycoon by his full name so casually. Dick scores an easy goal while Wally gapes, taking the chance to kick the redhead hard on the shin. Wally remembers himself and stops staring, choosing to glare instead at Dick who is trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Dude!" Wally hisses, eyes watering. And oops, that's going to leave a bruise. Only not because. Metabolism duh.

"Excuse me, I have to take this." Bruce says smoothly and brushes past Alfred with a thank-you.

"A journalist?" Edwin scowls, "He's leaving for a mere journalist? Who is this 'Kent' anyway?"

"I'm sorry sir," Dick stifles the urge to giggle because Alfred doesn't sound very sorry at all, "I don't know."

"Hmmph." Edwin replies, gesturing a haughty dismissal at the old butler. Alfred nods slightly and exits, raising an eyebrow at the back of Edwin's head just before he goes.

This time Dick can't help the giggle that escapes him, even though he tries to cover it up with a cough, because that's the closest Alfred's ever going to do something as childish as roll his eyes and Dick feels a warm sense of solidarity because of it.

"Something funny Richard?" Edwin says his voice deceptively light and the humor disappears. Dick shakes his head mutely in reply, hoping that Edwin will leave it at that.

"Isn't the pasta good?" Wally says quickly, drawing Edwin's perpetually disdainful stare to him, "Yum!" He feels Dick's face palm rather than sees it and suppresses the urge to grin.

"I've had better." Edwin replies stiffly, evidently not having expected to be addressed by Wally. "It is too dry, the sauce too thin, and much too salty for my delicate palate."

Wally looks down at his food and purposely does not give the man an incredulous look. The pasta tasted fine, no, great to him.

"Ah, Richard." Edwin says, turning his attention back to Dick who sits up straighter and reminds himself that he's faced scarier before. Like...like the Joker. And Two-Face. Ooh and Scarecrow. Scarecrow was pretty terrifying.

Wally nudges him a little too hard and Dick realizes that he'd been asked a question, "Pardon?" He asks.

"I asked how your studies were going on." Edwin repeats. Unimpressed. Dick sinks a little further into his seat.

"They're okay." Dick says, wondering what this was about.

"What grade are you now?" Edwin goes on, "You're thirteen this year correct? You should be in Year Eight by now if I'm not mistaken."

Dick tries not to fidget, "No sir, I got set back a year." On account that he'd only been registered to a real school when he was ten. On account that the only schooling he'd gotten on the road were half-remembered arithmetic lessons from Frederico the clown (and after all these years, it is still Dick's best and favorite subject), the only one who'd had any formal education past elementary school, and English learnt when his mother had realized that Dick would go nowhere in the world speaking a half-forgotten language like Roma and had persuaded the circus's strongman, a British native, to teach him.

And Dick, in all his naive childishness, had wondered why he would need to learn if he was going to stay with his parents in the circus forever. It was a morbid gratefulness, years later, when he could thank Bruce for paying for their funeral years later without a translator. His words sure and steady, even with a voice heavy with accent; too grief-tired to care much about proper enunciation.

Not to mention, it would have looked way too suspicious if all the previous accounts were taken into, well, account and it was made known that Bruce Wayne's adopted kid was a kid prodigy about the same time Batman's new protégé made his debut.

"When I was your age." Edwin says after a measured silence, "I was already in Year Ten. My brother Thomas, even two years younger than me, was in Year Nine. Thomas, rest his soul, grew up to be a fine young man; building up the corporation that stands proudly today."

Dick remains quiet, getting the feeling about where the conversation is heading. And dammit, he never asked for this! He never asked to be adopted by one of the richest men in the world, never asked to be the only son and heir candidate to said man's industries. He was just a boy who had lost his parents and didn't have anywhere to go. Haley's circus didn't need a one-boy trapeze show; especially not one with it's former members' blood splattered across the ring.

Bruce hangs up in the middle of Clark's sentence. Clark's not quite hysterical lecture on 'why we do not trade with one of the biggest supervillians on earth' had become nothing but white noise after the first five sentences or so. And since the Man of Steel had nothing of any worth to present the Batman, Bruce is going to go back to the dining room and hope that no irreparable damage has been wrought.

Personally he thinks that Wally's going to crack soon. It'll be entertaining sure, and well-deserved. But Bruce doesn't much want to test his prototype memory-eraser quite so soon, and Alfred had just gotten the housekeepers to polish the floor to the way he liked it...

Bruce enters the dining hall and the atmosphere is so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Wally hasn't killed anyone yet, but it looks like it's a close thing. Dick's expression is closed off and tense and a little worrying. But it clears a little when he senses Bruce's return.

Edwin acts like nothing is wrong and soon engages Bruce on speculation on how bad TimeNet's stocks are going to fall based on the fact that the CEO is rumored to have developed cancer.

Edwin says nothing that would put Dick down, which is also attributed to the fact that he doesn't address him at all, and the boys resumed their under-table footsie when it looks like neither Edwin nor Bruce would talk about anything interesting.

It's when everyone has relaxed their guard, just a little, when Edwin says -very lightly, casually even:

"I wonder if it would be prudent to begin looking for a wife." Dick freezes and his fork misses the strand of pasta to meet his ceramic plate with a sharp clang.

"Pardon? I didn't quite catch that." Bruce interrupts lightly, and only Dick can hear the strain.

"I said," Edwin says, as if he is talking to a particularly dense child, "That maybe you should start looking into getting a wife. You're not getting any younger Bruce, and it's high time you produce and train an heir."

"I'm only thirty-two uncle Edwin and I've never been healthier." Bruce reminds him, his voice steel-tinged, "And I already have a son."

Edwin raises an eyebrow derisively, "Grayson? Pah! He's not even a Wayne by blood. Don't tell me that you're actually considering passing the company on him! What qualifications does he have? What would the shareholders think? Do you really think that they would want this...this circus boy heading them? He couldn't even read properly when he first came to you."

"Now wait just a moment." Bruce says angrily, already rising from his seat. How dare he? How-

Movement from his periphery stops his ascent. Bruce hears a quiet 'dude' and Dick is out of his seat and by Edwin's, bewildered blue eyes searching out some shred of compassion in the man who is only his great-uncle by scrawled signatures and adoption papers signed years ago; pulling a child out of the circus painted with blood and into the unsure but willing arms of a man who thought he'd never love again.

Bruce grips the back of his chair so hard that it's a wonder it doesn't splinter.

"I'm sorry." Dick whispers when he searches and finds none, before he sweeps out of the room. And if he had been Robin his cape would have swept out with him and hid the hunch in his shoulders and his too-quick strides.

Wally is two steps behind him, for once unmindful of the fact that he's going to miss the peach pie Alfred's made for afters to replace frozen lemon squares only their guest could stomach.

"Just say the word." Wally grits out once they're in the safety of Dick's room. He's vibrating with fury, might even go through the floor if he's not careful.

Dick reaches out with something like curiosity and feels Armani tremble under his hand. Or maybe it's just him because Wally stills but Dick still feels the earth shudder at the tips of his fingers. Wally's eyes are an angry green, and neither of them is feeling the 'aster at the moment. Dick wonders morbidly if he'll ever feel it again.

Then he feels himself being pulled into a warm, careful hug. He's still got bruises from the last mission the team's done, feels the blue and black on his skin ache with the reminder. Wally has to bend down a little to accommodate their height difference, and red hair brush against the nape of his neck.

He's tempted to call Wally out on the moment they're having now, maybe make a jibe about how many public places they'll have to pee in to regain their manliness. But for now he simply buries his face in Wally's neck and breathes.

-

Bruce knocks but Dick ignores him. Presses a finger between his lips to signal Wally silent and doesn't acknowledge the look of concern on Wally's face. Dick only relaxes when he hears Bruce's almost inaudible sigh, hears his footsteps walking away, and tugs Wally into an impromptu game of poker. He even lets Wally win a few times.

They've made a kind of blanket fort to block out the world. Dick digs out a small, yet powerful, torch from his utility belt (he wasn't kidding when he said he brought it everywhere) and they make shadows against the fabric, nudges and gesturing replace the need for words and everything is sort of perfect as they crunch their way through Dick's hidden junk stash.

Well, until Dick can't take it any more and calls up his wrist computer. Just to see how everything is. He plugs a wireless earplug in his ear and synchronizes with the batcave's surveillance. Dick is about to check up on his guardian, feeling bad for ignoring the man, when he notices something weird.

Tapping into Edwin's phone-line takes some work, which only serves to fuel Dick's suspicion.

Something must have shown on his face if Wally is distracted from his snacking.

"Dude, are you looking at porn or something?" Wally snickers and plucks an earplug from Dick's ear and fits it into his own.

Wally's expression sobers quickly. He's only gotten the tail part of the conversation, but it's enough.

"This isn't good." Wally says.

"No shit Sherlock." Dick says, his brain already working furiously, "From what I heard, the breach is going to come from the eastern perimeter. It's not heavily guarded, but it doesn't need to be. The only way in is if someone opened the way from within."

"And that someone is Edwin." Wally finishes. Dick nods.

"This a job for Kid Flash?" Wally asks. He's got his costume hidden in a secret compartment in his luggage. Admittedly the compartment also held a snack bar. Or twenty. But if he was going to don the suit, he'd better have enough energy to use it right?

"No, it might compromise your identity." Dick shakes his head, "And you being here throws the bad-guys off balance. From what I heard, they're coming tomorrow night."

Wally turns back to the screen, the blue hologram glowing in the darkness.

"So what do we do now?" Wally asks, and then groans when he is met with silence.

"I really hate it when he does that."

-

"So what do we do now?" Dick asks, echoing Wally's last sentiment as he pads across the batcave in his pajamas. Bruce types rapidly at his computer and doesn't answer, clad in his Batman costume with his cowl down.

Dick pulls out a chair and settles down comfortable next to his guardian. Bruce acknowledges him with a slight incline of the head, but doesn't stop typing.

"You knew." Dick accuses suddenly with a pout, "You knew and didn't tell me! And- and- and you knew and let him into the manor! Bruce! It's like waving a neon sign at...whoever ‘Ed’s was contacting that says-" Bruce shoots Dick a quelling look. Dick shuts up, but flails anyway in retaliation. Not quite yet defeated.

"You might have let your feelings get in the way." Bruce replies, but there's no heat, and no mistrust. Only the simple acknowledgement that he wouldn't have blamed Dick if he'd had.

"I might have." Dick agrees finally, the tension draining away, and finds comfort in the familiarity of the cave and the glow of the screens.

-

Wally comes out of the bathroom, having spent the better part of half an hour searching for secret doorways and hidden entrances, and isn't all that surprised to see Dick already in bed.

But there's a warm plate of peach pie waiting for him on the bedside table like an apology and a thank-you at the same time.

And Dick grins with his eyes still closed in feigned-slumber when he hears Wally pick the pie up and tell him that he knows Dick is awake.

-

There's a sense of calm in the manor the next day. Like a scripted play, the individuals of the house act their parts with the confidence of a flawlessly memorized script.

Bruce is the ever-gracious host, making no mention of Edwin's faux pas the night before. Alfred lurks in the shadows, the graceful unseen servant. Dick is silent and invisible as a good child should be. Seen and not heard.

Only Wally is without a script, but is content with being the sole audience. Edwin suspects nothing and stays in blissful ignorance of that fact that he has been thwarted the moment he'd even formulated a plan. The villain who has been foiled before he can even make his first move.

Dick's smiles are all blank and semi-vague. But he does save the warm, true, quirks of the lip for when the backs of the adults are turned to them.

Wally is fairly buzzing with energy come evening. Bruce shows no indication of the things to come, and neither does Dick. Only the excited spark of blue eyes give anything away; and Wally is momentarily lost in sky blue and cornflower.

Dick catches him staring and smiles with all his teeth. Warmth pools to the pit of his stomach and Wally grins too, quick and brash like he is.

Time ticks on, it's time for bed. Dick exchanges a tight goodnight to everyone before he and Wally go. Dick feels Bruce's eyes on him (don't mess this up) and he tosses a quick glance back (have I ever?).

(No.) Bruce nods slightly and Dick feels a rush of adrenaline accompanied by the pleasant glow of being _trusted_. He feels like doing cartwheels all the way up the stairs, just because he can, but refrains.

He tosses a look Wally's way as they ascend the stairs, two at a time. Wally is fairly thrumming with energy, green eyes blazing with something like fire. And maybe Edwin would be feeling that minor draft after all.

"What?" Wally asks, and his voice is hushed. Dick smiles to himself like it's some private joke and says:

"You have the prettiest green eyes." Dick replies cheekily to hide the undercurrent of truth. Wally raises an eyebrow at that, somewhat amused, somewhat searching. And Dick doesn't know if he wants Wally to find what he's searching for, or not.

"Says you, baby blue." Wally retorts finally, and Dick laughs because only Wally's ever seen his eyes among those he counts as his closest friends (that aren't adults anyway). And maybe Wally's going to be the only one.

Dick finds that he doesn't mind in the slightest.

-

Edwin supposes he's always been bitter from the start. All those years ago when he'd found out that Thomas had left his still young, and only, son the entire industry. And even gave strict instructions so precise even the best lawyers Edwin could find either couldn't find a loophole, or had a part in writing it.

The child would be left to the guardianship of the Wayne's most trusted butler, Alfred Pennyworth, and the corporation was to be run by the board of directors until Bruce was of age to take it over. Edwin had only been left with a (admittedly sizable) share of stock and Thomas's most prized yacht, among other such trivial things, but who cared about that? Pah! Trusting a child to do a man's job.

And now this...this...circus boy stood to take over the corporation? This was madness. Utter and complete madness. Why, his own son was worth a thousand Graysons put together! What would a carnie know about the business world anyway?

And so when Luthor had approached him with the deal of a lifetime, Edwin would have been a fool to turn it down. It was for the good of the Wayne industries, he tells himself, as he fingers the tiny timedrive Lex's underling had given him, with the assurance that it would override the manor's security system. The good of the future itself!

Edwin hesitates a moment before he plugs it in. Luthor hadn't actually given him any assurance whatsoever that the inhabitants of the manor -barring him of course- would not get hurt. He spares a thought for his nephew, probably sleeping soundly without the slightest notion of his eminent betrayal. There's a slight tinge of guilt that Edwin squashes determinedly. Luthor wouldn't be so stupid as to hurt him.

And, terrible as it seemed, Edwin admits that he would feel a slight sense of satisfaction if the circus boy and his friend got shaken up a little.

With a renewed sense of purpose he plugs the gadget in.

The quiet manor is quickly swarmed with men in black. They stealthily position themselves as they silently communicate to each other with gestures and hand signals.

"They're here." Dick murmurs and suddenly Wally is very wide awake, green eyes rapidly blinking sleep away, "Wanna do the honors?"

Wally grins and presses a key on Dick's wrist computer.

The manor's security comes back online with a vengeance as Dick's computer overrides the override. It is pretty awesome.

Edwin's hands fly up to cover his ears as the manor is suddenly filled with the jarring sound of the alarm. There are shouts of surprise and curses fill the air as the men in black start to panic.

The leader strides towards Edwin and grabs the fabric of his shirt, lifting him up and slamming him against a pillar menacingly, "The fuck!?" The leader yells over the alarm, "How dare you fuck with us!"

"I didn't!" Edwin chokes back terrified, clutching at the fist holding him up, "I don't know what happened! It must have been an error in the timedrive! It wasn't me! I swear!"

A sudden guttural scream snaps their attention to the stairs and Edwin sinks down to the floor as the leader's hold goes slack. The rest of the men in black have been incapacitated one way or another without so much as a sound. They lie either unconscious or groaning, their weapons rendered useless. And all in the brief moment the leader's and Edwin's backs were turned.

"No. Fucking. Way." The leader says horrified and starts to back away. Edwin wearily turns his head and freezes.

His eyes traveling up unwillingly and meets the cold gaze of the Batman.

"Don't move!" A voice yells and Batman tears his attention away to the sound.

A man has Dick in a stranglehold, roughly dragging the unwilling boy down the stairs, a gun pressed to Dick's head.

To the side Wally is in a similar predicament. Bruce shoots Wally a level look behind his cowl that he hopes conveys 'calm down, I have it under control'. Wally subsides, looking a little more fearful of the Batman than of the gun pressed to his head. Which isn't actually what Bruce had wanted to achieve, but it worked anyway.

The memory of his parent's deaths are vivid in his mind. Both shot to death with a gun reminisce of the one against his son's head. Batman's eyes narrow behind the cowl, his mind racing through his options. He wasn't about to let it happen a third time.

"Don't move or the kid gets it!" The man yells. Dick looks as terrified as any kid would be in that situation, but his eyes meet Batman's and then he is Robin; only without the mask or the costume. But before they settle on a plan, Superman punches a hole through the wall.

Bruce is _not_ going to be happy about that, Dick thinks with a sigh. He would facepalm if he had the use of either hand. He'd just had the manor renovated too.

"Ouch, that can't be earning Big Blue any points." Wally mutters. Dick snorts silently in agreement as the intruders look visibly freaked out by the unexpected arrival of one of the most powerful superbeings in the freaking _galaxy_.

Superman stands heroically at the hole in the wall, looking big and muscular and his primary-colored self. Dick is both glad to see him and annoyed at the added drama.

"Don't move!" The man with the gun screams again before Superman can come up with an opening line, jamming the gun harder against Dick's head for good measure. Dick winces and wishes that he could bat-glare the man. That freaking hurt!

Superman pauses and assesses the situation carefully. While everyone is distracted Wally takes the chance to headbutt his captor, slamming him in the crotch for good measure as well.

Suddenly Dick's captor collapses and only Dick's reflexes save him from being squashed by his paralyzed captor's weight. The Batman regards the body with distaste. It had been too easy to sneak up on him and press the proper pressure points. And it would have been easier if Metropolis's boyscout hadn't punched a hole through his wall.

"Batman!" Dick gasps in feigned surprise, although the fanboy-ish eye-gleam and the clasped hands was a little too much, "You saved me! Could- Could I have an autograph? Oh! Wait 'till Bruce sees this!"

"Me too!" Wally joins in, trying not to laugh, the previous (and healthy) terror of the Dark Knight seemingly gone, "I can't wait to tell all my friends in Central that I've met the Batman! They're going to be so jealous!"

"I trust you can take over from here." Batman says gruffly, ignoring the boys. Superman nods once and Batman disappears into the shadows.

Wally catches Edwin trying to get away and after a quick look about to make sure no one could see him he grins.

Edwin feels the most minor of drafts before he seemingly trips on a solid piece of air and lands on the ground with an undignified thump. A quick jab at strategic pressure points has Edwin out cold in moments. Wally is back at Dick's side as quickly as he'd left, grinning widely.

"You idiot." Dick turns on him, sudden and angry, causing Wally to stumble backwards. Dick grabs his arm and steadies him before he can fall down the stairs, his grip a little harder than necessary, "What if he'd shot you? What if he accidentally pulled the trigger?"

It takes a while for Wally to process before realizing what Dick is referring to.

"He didn't." Wally injects helpfully, and wonders if Superman will save him if Dick makes good the threat Wally can read in his furious blue eyes and throws him off the banister. Said Man of Steel only shrugs helplessly at Wally's wordless plea, obviously not wanting to be involved.

"That's not the point!" Dick's voice cracks but he doesn't care. A thousand scenarios taunt him, most of them with Wally ending up either dead or worse.

Wally looks confused a moment, then softens, "I know," He says, "And I promise you. I would've been fast enough to dodge it."

Not at point blank range, Dick thinks despairingly, not without any damage at all. He rubs a tired hand over his face and tries to shake the image of Wally's head being blown off; knows what's going to be fueling his nightmares in the future.

Wally's heart clenches at Dick's obvious distress and, on impulse, grabs Dick's other hand.

"I'm okay," Wally says soothingly, moving closer and plucking Dick's hand off his face, tilts the younger's head up and makes those blue eyes actually see him. Hale and whole and very obviously not dead. "We're okay, everyone's okay."

Dick nods slowly and squeezes Wally's hand with a rather watery smile.

"Thanks." Dick says quietly.

A thought occurs to Wally that he blurts out unthinkingly, "Well, except for the bad guys. They're totally not okay. Or Edwin either," Wally says brightly, "Ooh! We'll probably have to call the police now right? That's what civilians have to do if I remember correctly. Hey Superman! You got a cell phone buried somewhere in those tights of yours?"

Superman raises an eyebrow and shakes his head bemusedly.

Dick rolls his eyes, and punches Wally on the shoulder, "Way to ruin the moment, genius."

Bruce chooses that moment to stumble sleepily out of his room. Dick looks down at his and Wally's clasped hands and pulls away quickly.

Bruce pauses to take in everything, from the men strewn around the manor, to the two awfully red boys trying to look as innocent as possible, to Superman who is currently sporting a somewhat sheepish expression.

"Do I...even want to know?" Bruce asks guilelessly, hair ruffled and voice hoarse and heavy with sleep.

Both Clark and Wally take a moment to inwardly applaud Bruce's mad acting skills.

Dick actually does.

-

They must make a really weird picture, Clark thinks. Four heroes, three of them in their pajamas, sit around the stairs eating pie.

The police have come and gone, taking with them the men in black and Edwin for questioning. Clark leans against a banister and sighs to himself. Lois was going to have a field day with this one, he could tell. The whole operation fairly screamed 'Luthor' and no doubt Lex was already preparing to cover the whole thing up. Obviously prepared for failure, he was probably going to play the victim this time around. Clark could practically see the headlines now. Something about the irony of Luthor's own tech being stolen and used against the greater good Lex had always driven for.

Right now Clark simply couldn't find it in himself to care.

"This is some mess you'll have to clean up." Clark finds himself commenting when he catches Bruce's eye. Bruce simply shrugs in the way that says that he'd already taken care of it. Sometimes Clark wonders if Bruce actually had a superpower and simply didn't tell them. Something awesome and terrifying. Like omnipotence. Clark wouldn't put it past the man.

Clark turns his attention to the two boys who sit away from them, further up the staircase. Dick's eyes are falling shut and Wally looks exhausted as well. Dawn casts dim lights through the manor as the sun heralds the new day; the colors making the two heroes seem softer. Younger.

Wally gently pulls Dick's plate out of his hands and sets it aside, next to his own.

"C'mon," Wally says softly, tugging, "It's way, way, past your bedtime."

"It's dawn," Dick replies, yawning hugely before continuing, "And it's summer. It's exactly my bedtime."

But he follows Wally anyway as they make their way up the stairs after a quick goodnight to the adults.

Dick stumbles into his room and grimaces at the memory of their would-be captors managing to break into his room. Obviously if they'd had the tech to break into the manor; the same went for his room. Oh well, time for another security update.

"I can hear you thinking." Wally grumbles. His warm breath tickles Dick's ear as a similar warmth drapes itself over his back, steering him to the bed.

They fall unto the mattress together, and Dick mutters something about not hogging the sheets this time. Wally retorts something about no kicking because he could kick harder, whereupon Dick reminds him that he can kill him with his pinky finger. Wally holds him a little tighter and tells Dick, sure, but he'd have to catch him first. And Dick says: easily, because he has super bat-vanishing skills and Wally'd have to find him first before he can run away. And the conversation is getting a little ridiculous but they're running on a couple of hour's sleep and kept awake by the remnants of adrenaline still coursing through their blood.

"Then I'll never let you go." Wally decides, voice muffled as he breathes into raven hair.

A friend that sticks closer than a brother...something, something, something. He can't remember the rest, or where it's from, but he thinks that their friendship is something like that.

"I'm whelmed with that." Dick agrees finally, his eyes falling shut at last, dimly aware that they'll both be mortified out of their minds in the morning, afternoon, whatever, at the totally non-manly moment they'd just shared.

But for now, Dick snuggles closer into Wally's warmth and dreams of tightropes and trapezes and green, green eyes.


End file.
